The Jeweled Pharaoh
by AvengedStardom
Summary: Through no fault of their own, Sherlock and John find themselves in a baffling case involving Egypt, hieroglyphics, robberies, invisible men and Moriarty. However this case is like no other, this is specifically someone trying to hurt Sherlock but if not Moriarty - then whom?
1. Don't just stand there!

**The Jeweled Pharoah– Chapter 1**

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**Well hello, and thank you for clicking on my story! I will try and post everyday and make this Johnlock fic vaguely interesting. The Johnlock ship will be implied but it will be mostly about their friendship, sorry people who were expecting romance. So yeah, I hope you enjoy and carry on reading :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing I tell you!**

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"_Don't just bloody stand there John!" Sherlock yelled over the noise of the rushing traffic. "Run!"_

Heading straight away from the Infamous Sherlock Holmes and the Confirmed bachelor John Watson was a criminal clutching one of the Worlds' most sought after artifacts The Jeweled Pharaoh. Adorned with beautiful hieroglyphics and christened with dazzling rubies, it was crowned the most expensive and intriguing pieces of Ancient Egyptian pottery. Therefore it was understandable why people weren't exactly thrilled when suddenly all the doors opened in The Natural History Museum and a robber came in unnoticed. Of course, Sherlock accepted the case straight away after three previous robberies had been committed in various parts of the world but only Sherlock knew the link between them and he wasn't going to reveal that to anyone.

So there Sherlock and John were running crazily towards an unnamed criminal who obviously knew his way around the streets of London. "Why-are-we-doing-this?" John panted, turning into a dark alleyway. "Why should we not?" Sherlock grinned moving at double the pace of John.

Quickly, they were shooting down corner roads, jumping over cars, even trampling private gardens – just to catch up with this one piece of evidence.

"Wait, come this way – I know a short cut!" Sherlock shouted, tugging at John's jumper as John made a laughable wrong turn into a dead end. Suddenly Sherlock was dragging John by the sleeve through two traffic lights, a whole bunch of strange roads until they reached the supposed shortcut.

Glaring in front of them stood a metal gate the size of a three story house with only a two large bins and a couple of holes in the bricks either side to help them get up. Sherlock didn't even stop. He frantically jumped up onto a bin and stood by the corner where the brickwork met the harsh cold bars. He then slid his right foot onto a man-made foot-hole and climbed up until he reached the top. Before he turned around and jumped onto the floor on the other side, Sherlock turned to see John awkwardly rubbing his neck contemplating about what to do.

"No Sherlock, I won't – don't even think about it." John said stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Just go up onto the bin and work your way up, you'll find it easy!" Sherlock protested in the kindest voice he could muster.

"No Sherlock, you find it easy. I find it impossible." John stood his ground.

"Listen, we are wasting valuable time here. Do you want to catch this man or not?" Sherlock argued impatiently.

"Urgh, fine." John mumbled angrily. Cautiously, he clambered up onto the bin bag – each clumsy footstep at a time.

Irritated, Sherlock muttered something along the lines of, "Christ – you must have been shit in the army." Before he reached down and grabbed John's arm.

"Ah, god Sherlock – remember the shoulder." John cringed, flinching at the pain.

"Well bloody hurry up then!" Sherlock yelled before reaching down even further to place one hand under John's shoulder and the other firmly in John's hand. John slowly looked up and caught a glint from Sherlock's eye and a smirk from his mouth before John felt himself being thrust upwards and almost thrown over the top of the gate.

"Fuck, Sherlock – be careful." John lectured, picking himself up from the gravely ground.

"Oh well, yes, in retrospect that might have not been the most thought out actions." Sherlock said guilt-free whilst throwing himself off the top of the gate. He landed with a loud thud before running off to catch up with the criminal.

"God, wait for me!" John cried, brushing off the dirt from his hands – following Sherlock into the mist. There he found Sherlock, head in his hands cursing all manner of things.

"Sherlock?" John asked, putting his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

Suddenly, Sherlock brushed off his hand, turned around to face him then screamed down John's ear. "He got away, all because of your stupid monkey games over there. Damn it, we had him and everything!"

"Surely you have some idea of where he's going." John said doubtfully.

"Of course I do, eight, but we cannot waste time looking for a man that doesn't exist – can we?" Sherlock gave John the look, the 'we-know-everything-that-is-going-on-look' except John was admittedly confused.

"A man that doesn't exist?" John replied, intrigued.

"Urgh, I'll tell you when we get back." Sherlock said, hailing down a cab, irritated that everyone had to be so dumb compared to him.

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As soon as they got back to 221B Baker Street, Sherlock rushed in to the living room where he promptly put up a pin board. An obvious sign that this would be a long case if Sherlock needed somewhere other than his 'mind palace' to store his ideas.

"So are you going to tell me about this invisible man then?" John asked, falling into his soft armchair.

"He's not invisible John, he just doesn't exist. He's not important. Not worth anything!" Sherlock said angrily, pacing back and forth across the room.

"So you mean, he isn't our criminal then? He's just an agent in the scheme of things." John unsure of the reaction he could cause.

"Exactly!" Sherlock nodded, relieved. "There were enough clues…"

"Like what?" John said.

"Don't make me go on John, the list would be tedious. Please, just think." Sherlock sighed, still pacing.

So John did think. He thought about the way the robber moved, what he was wearing, what he was doing. John retraced every step and revisited every moment when that criminal took that artifact However, he was entirely missing the point. The point being that this man was nothing more than a messenger, a pigeon and he needed to think about anything but him.

Eventually, Sherlock got tired of waiting for an answer from John.

"Number 1, the doors – they opened by themselves, remind you of anyone? Number 2, committed during a time when anyone could see – however no one saw. Ring a bell? Number 3, the link – the string attaching these four robberies. It's so obvious yet no one sees!" Sherlock shouted, a wave of released tension passing through his face.

"Wait, are we talking about Moriarty?" John replied, unfazed by Sherlock's whole anger act.

"No, I am talking about Moriarty – you are sitting idly." Sherlock sighed.

"So, this link, is it that all the doors were opened automatically, by Moriarty?" John asked.

"Well, yes but it's bigger than that. It's...well,you should know John! It's staring you right in the face!" Sherlock yelled frustrated, pinning four images of the stolen artifacts onto the pin board.

"The artifacts? Well, yes they are all from the Ancient Egyptian times but how can that relate to modern day?" John asked, sitting up from his chair – staring at the images.

"Don't look, observe." Sherlock stated.

John did observe and he found exactly what Sherlock was looking for. "The hieroglyphics, it's to do with them right?"

"Finally!" Sherlock said relieved. "They are all the same, they are from completely different times in the era but they all say exactly the same things. There were hundreds of other Ancient Egyptian artifacts that could have been stolen, but these were chosen."

"Do you think there are more of them?" John asked, standing up.

"Of course, they're going to tell us something. Something that we'll need to find out before Moriarty finds out." Sherlock said, smirking at the thought of mystery.

John stood there and smiled back, feeling genuinely proud of himself – and Sherlock. "Fancy a cuppa'?" John said, making his way to the kitchen.

"Why not, it's going to be a long ni…" Sherlock attempted to reply before a cloth covered his mouth and he fell to the floor.

And that was all the conversation John could remember before hearing the crash before he blacked out and pain blemished him...

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**Oooh, betcha want to know what happens next ;) well keep on reading and as always R & R please. Thank you buh-bye :)**


	2. You'd be hard to forget, Moriarty

**The Jeweled Pharoah– Chapter 2**

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**Okay, so here is chapter two - more dialogue in this one, sorry! Yeah, keep on reading - this is gonna be fun. I've already had an idea for the sequel and we still have chapters left to go through :') **

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"_Throw 'im down there boys!"  
"You'll learn never to mess with us again…"  
"Kick 'im to the gutter!"_

John shook his head, forcing the voices out – even he couldn't tell whether they were dreams or memories. Slowly, he brought his head up from the dirty floor he was looking at and opened his weary eyes. He found himself in a dark and damp room – he suspected he was in a warehouse. Yes, John definitely felt defeated but he wasn't scared – not yet anyway.

However, suddenly something changed all of that. John knew he was stuck to a chair and he knew he couldn't move however he was expecting ropes to hold him down but he was physically unable to kick his legs. "Shit!" John mumbled, trying to wriggle himself off but it was no use and it just forced him to sit in an even more uncomfortable position.

Suddenly, he felt a cold breath in his ear. "Now, John." The voice mouthed, "I wouldn't try and do that now." John turned and glared at the moving figure, "Why should I not?"

"Ooh, I was expecting a better reaction than that John…" The man said pulling forward a seat in front of John. "You don't know who I am, do you?" The figure smirked.

"You'd be hard to forget, Moriarty."

"Oh, there's a little fight left in the soldier I see." The man smirked in his familiar flamboyant way. "Don't worry; I'll get rid of that soon."

John just stared at him; he wasn't going to risk doing anything stupid.

"So, are you wondering where Sherlock is or not?" Moriarty asked, getting off his chair.

"You're not going to tell me, why waste my breathe?" John replied.

"You're not going to even attempt to play the game then?" Moriarty said, creeping behind John. "You could at least ask why you can't move."

John sighed, "Why can't I move then?"

"Small dose of neuromuscular blocker in your legs – don't worry." Then Moriarty crouched and whispered into his ear, "Should wear off in a couple of hours."

John looked down at his legs. Of course, being a doctor himself he knew all about neuromuscular blockers – one thing being that with the wrong dosage it could stop him breathing. "How much have you given me." John demanded.

"Some." Moriarty replied carelessly, sitting back in the seat across from John.

"How much have you given me!" John shouted now, becoming impatient.

"I'm not stupid John, I'm not going to kill you." Moriarty said in a bored, condescending tone. "Not yet anyway."

John turned to look at a heavy metal door. He thought maybe that he could catch Moriarty off guard and use his hands to knock him out. Then maybe he could sort of shuffle to the door, but no – it wouldn't work. The immediate thought after though was more promising. John knew Sherlock, he knew he could get out of any sticky situation and come to rescue the day. All John would have to do was wait and not give away any information. However, he was strangely curious to why Moriarty had even gathered him here and thought that one question couldn't do much harm.

"So, why am I here?" John said firmly, eyes fixed permanently on Moriarty.

"Engaging in small talk now are we?" Moriarty smiled, and moved his chair a little closer to John. "Surely you can fathom that out for yourself."

"You're to do with the robberies." John stated.

"Correct." Moriarty replied.

"And you don't want us to solve it."

"Correct."

"But kidnapping me won't help that." John said.

"You ordinary people really are dumb aren't you?" Moriarty sighed, "I don't know why Sherlock keeps you."

"So you're not going to tell me after all." John questioned.

Moriarty slumped back in his chair. "Who does Sherlock care for?"

"Sherlock doesn't have friends." John replied.

"So what do you think you are too him?" Moriarty said.

"I don't know. Flatmate, colleague –"

"And friend." Moriarty cut John off. "Truth is, I don't know where Sherlock is and I don't know who's got him. All I know is that he is being dealt with. Whether that means he has been moved to the other side of the world or has been locked up in a steel cage, I couldn't tell you. Whatever has happened to him though – is certainly going to distract him from the case."

"So that's why I'm here." John smiled a glimmer of hope in his eye. "As a distraction, so Sherlock will spend time looking for me instead of working on the case?"

"Glad you're keeping up." Moriarty huffed and got out of his chair, again.

"But we both know Sherlock; you know he will come to find me." John smiled again.

"You're missing the point John." Moriarty sang, dragging his chair to the far corner of the room. "I don't care if he finds you, and he will – eventually. However, the longer it takes him – the better advantage for me.

"But when these drugs wear off, can't I just walk away?" John said, twiddling his thumbs.

"Oh, thank you ever so much for reminding me. I was going to dose you up when the last lot had worn off but seeing as you just jogged my memory, why shouldn't I do it now?" Moriarty smiled, turning his head back to John – craving his reaction.

John cocked his head to the side and shuffled forwards.

"Haha." Moriarty laughed, "That silenced you, didn't it?" Slowly, Moriarty started walking back towards John. "But you better be careful dear, you're no use to me – killing you wouldn't be any game changer and I'm really not afraid to do it."

Again, John turned to look at the door. Praying that any minute Sherlock would run in – punch Moriarty and drag him away but he wasn't coming.

"Still holding out hope are you soldier?" Moriarty laughed before turning to walk out the door. "Well let's just see how that goes.

John glared at him.

"Well, I'll be back in an hour to top up your dosage. Don't do anything you might regret." Moriarty said walking out the door. "Toodles!"

John sighed and turned to look at the floor again, then back at the door and finally back at the floor before he decided to close his eyes and simply wait for Sherlock's hopeful arrival. It wasn't soon until everything was a blur and he could finally relax again, but not for long…

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**I'm a fan of cliff hangers aren't I? :) R & R please and we will see what happens next :D**


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